


Chance

by EleanorandJagg



Series: Chance [1]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: AU, Druids, Emyrs, Father-Son Relationship, Gen, Mild Gore, Mild Language, the great purge
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-28
Updated: 2014-02-16
Packaged: 2018-01-10 09:17:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 11,511
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1157909
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EleanorandJagg/pseuds/EleanorandJagg
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For the last five winters (since the Iseldir came across him in that god-forsaken cave) Balinor Ambrosias, last of the Dragonlords has lived with Iseldir's druidic clan. The most eventful things to happen have been moving from wood to wood every few months. But something has the Druids all excited- something about the arrival of Emrys...<br/>AU, set before S2 E3, written because I am still really angry that they killed off Balinor after one episode.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This had already been posted on Fanfiction.net but I thought I'd post it on here anyway.   
> There are nowhere near enough Merlin and Balinor fics around, so I hope that my contribution helps right this terrible wrong and I also hope that you enjoy my story.

Balinor awoke, as he had done every morning for twenty years, to a numb feeling in his chest. He forced his eyes to remain shut, attempting to keep himself in his dream world for just a little longer.  
He was in the woods near Ealdor, dappled sunlight casting funny shadows on his very pregnant wife’s face. Hunith. Her beauty was still as fresh as when they first met, and so was her kindness, as shown by the laughter lines on her face. She spotted him watching her from their kitchen window and gestured for him to come and join her in their garden. He made his way out to her, picking up a chair and moving it next to hers. As he sat down Hunith pulled her head up to face his, asking for a kiss. A wide smile broke across Balinor’s face, mischief in his eyes, he bent down to meet Hunith’s waiting lips, but at the last moment ducked his head down to her enormous bump and smothered it in kisses. Hunith let out a light laugh, the kind that the Dragonlord could listen to for hours on end. Having recovered from his bout of silliness Balinor settled himself on his chair and began to make idle chit chat with his wife about baby names, the flowers in the garden, when he should next visit Kilgarrah. He heard excited giggles and squeals of laughter as a troupe of children flooded into the garden. His children.  
There were five of them, all smiles and innocence. His twin sons had come running in with their elder sister, all three coated in dust and grass stains. Trailing behind them was his eldest and youngest, as to be expected, his eldest son was protective of all his siblings, but had a soft spot for his youngest sister. The eldest was almost sixteen, his eldest daughter fourteen, the twins were twelve and his youngest daughter was only three. He laughed as he watched his middle children engage in a fierce battle using their stick swords yelling something about claiming lost treasure and out of the corner of his eye he spotted his other daughter running around after the bubbles his eldest had conjured for her.  
Shifting his attention over to the pair he watched her chase after the bubbles, her tiny face alight with joy waving her chubby hands about, desperate to catch them. When she did pop one, she called out in delight as it turned into a brightly coloured butterfly that landed on a nearby rosebush. His son’s face was broken into a wide smile, Balinor’s smile, as he watched his beloved little sister being entranced by his magic. Out of all Balinor’s children, this son was the only one to posses the gift of magic. He looked at all his children and recited their names in his head. The youngest daughter, Rose, for her pale pink skin that matched the roses that had bloomed in the garden on the day of her birth. The twins, Edmund and William, two good strong names for to mischievous strong boys. Cahira was his first born daughter, her name chosen to reflect her fighting spirit, her birth had not been easy.  
But his oldest son, his first born… Balinor could never think of a name for him. However long he searched he could never find the right word to describe his son. His personality was so complex, his looks so diverse (only the gods know who inherited those ears off!) his name had to be perfect. The name was always on the tip of his tongue but Balinor could never quite reach it. Still, he watched contently with his beloved by his side, his children playing before him, Kilgarrah never too far away. He could smell the swent scents of flowers from their garden and the sounds of the forest were ever present under his precious children’s giggles. In the dream world, Balinor shut his eyes and immersed himself in the comforting sounds.  
All too soon, the giggles had turned into shouts and he heard heavy footfalls past his tent.  
With a shuddering gasp Balinor was wrenched from his fantasies by the loud noises from the usually quiet druid camp. Pushing himself upright he swung his legs out of his cot and caught sight of himself in the small mirror opposite his bed. The morning light illuminated his face. His dark hair was long but kept clean, as was his short beard. Lines were etched upon his face, adding age and sadness to the once always smiling face. If Hunith could see him now she wouldn’t recognise the man I’ve become, he thought bitterly. A tear leaked from his left eye, crawling down his face. One tear for a family that would never be. Slowly he rose and went about his normal routine, ignoring the excited noises from outside. They could wait, he thought as he washed his face and changed into his green robes.  
He poked his head out of the flap and called to a passing druid “Anthea, what is it? What’s going on?”  
Only stopping for a moment she turned and answered “It’s our lord, Balinor, our King approaches once again!”  
The Dragonlord frowned. He had lived with this clan for the last five years so he knew enough about them to know that there was no druid King, or at least that they had told him about. More over, this clan was one of the more calm, reserved ones (partly why he took refuge with them) so to see them so excited about someone shocked Balinor slightly. Still, this visitor sounded important so Balinor thought he’d better get to Iselidr and help great him. Being the last Dragonlord did give him a very high status in the group, as high as any of the clan elders. Besides, his curiosity had got the better of him and he found he was desperate to know more.


	2. Chapter 2

Within the hour, the entire clan had assembled –all in their best clothes Balinor noted- in front of the old oak tree at the centre of the camp. Iseldir stood at the centre of the druids, with Balinor standing a little behind him and to his left. Everyone had been talking to their friends and family in hushed tones, whispering about the arrival of their lord, wondering why he had decided to pay them a visit. They all fell silent when a lone hooded figure walked into their sight. He was wearing a midnight blue cloak with the hood drawn up so that the shadows covered his face. Under his rich cloak, Balinor could see some scruffy brown trousers and worn leather boots. Hardly the attire of a King he thought to himself. As he passed the small gatherings of druids, they all bowed to this stranger.   
He finally came to a stop before the leaders, who bowed low to him (with the exception of Balinor, who chose to respectfully incline his head, as he wasn’t actually a druid and he had no idea who this man was) whilst Iseldir said, his low, calm voice tinged with excitement “It is an honour to welcome you into our camp once more, Sire.”   
Lily white hands emerged from the blue cloak and gracefully lifted his hood back, revealing the face… of a smiling boy. Balinor froze. He found him gazing upon the face of the son from his dreams. The exact same raven hair, cheekbones that could cut glass, ridiculous ears, he even had Balinor’s lopsided smile! The older man was transfixed, drinking in the boy before him like a blind man who had just begun to see. When he spoke the older man barely registered his words, but committed the sound of his voice to memory. It was young, full of life and laughter but there was also wisdom. This boy had seen things no one of his age should.   
Balinor heard the boy speaking humbly, requesting counsel and a bed for the night, but only if they had enough to spare. It was only Iseldir’s next words that could’ve shaken Balinor from his trance.  
“Of course my lord. We shall move tour my tent immediately. And please don’t feel like your imposing on us, Emrys. You know you are always welcome here.”  
Emrys. As in, the Emrys? The most powerful warlock to ever walk the earth Emrys?  
The boy, Emrys, didn’t reply, he just smiled politely, shifting his gaze to Balinor, who stood stock still, having been shocked into silence by the boys resemblance to his could’ve been son and the revelation that this skinny youth before him was the great Emrys. Their eyes locked for what seemed like an eternity before Emrys asked him “My apologies, but I do not believe we have met. May I ask you name, sir?”  
Balinor licked his lips and swallowed, his mouth was as dry as the desert. Never looking away from the boys eyes he replied “My name is Balinor Ambrosious and I am no sir. Neither am I a druid,” Emrys’ mouth closed again, Balinor could tell he was about to ask him that question “Iseldir was kind enough to give me refuge in his camp. I have been hiding since Uther’s Purge began twenty one years ago and this clan has sheltered me for five of those long years.”   
Normally just thinking about Uther and the evils he inflicted would make the Dragonlord want to cry or smash something but for some bizarre reason he was fighting the urge to grin. There was something about this boy that made him so happy but he just couldn’t put his finger on it. Neither could he bring himself to stop looking into this boy’s eyes. And oh! His eyes were incredible. They were the pale blue but deep in the centre they were flecked with gold, the same gold as Kilgarrah’s all seeing eyes. And who over said eyes were the windows to the soul was right! He could tell so much about this boy from his eyes. They were old, older than he looked, so he had seen things, done things that he shouldn’t have had to at his age. They were soft, so he was a kind person. Good, he thought, I have no time for cruel Kings.   
Currently Emrys’s eyes were aflame with an insatiable curiosity that reminded Balinor of his youth. Diving deeper into the blue depths he could see worry, something was troubling him, that was probably the reason he had come, he wanted the druids advice. A wise King as well as a good one, Balinor had always thought wisdom came from listening to others as much as it was about your own intelligence. And this boy King was intelligent; there was no doubt about that. Just standing in his presence could tell you that, he was practically overflowing with knowledge. There was power also, very deep down, like he was reluctant to show it so this was a humble man. Cunning too, Balinor suspected, with such an innocent face and unassuming look, he could easily pass for less than he is. Hiding his strength allowed him to hide himself from suspicion let him pass through places without a second glance so he could do what needed to be done unnoticed. There was so much more he could see in this complex young man but there was one thing that his subconscious was telling him was so very important that he couldn’t quite see.   
“Hm?” Emrys tore his gaze away from Balinor and looked again to Iseldir, who had asked him a question that Balinor hadn’t even registered. Interestingly, it looked like Emrys had been too engrossed in Balinor’s eyes to notice some one speak too.   
“What is it that you seek counsel about my lord?” Iseldir repeated. Curiously, Emrys shifted uncomfortably at the mention of title but pressed on, eager to speak his mind.   
“An… issue has arisen concerning myself and the Great Dragon on which I need some urgent advice, and after all you are known for your wisdom…” Emrys trailed off, trying to cover his nervousness with humor.  
“Kilgarrah?” Balinor asked in surprise, having perked up the moment that the dragon was mentioned. Emrys looked back at him, surprised and wary he said “Yes. Tell me, how do you know his name?”   
For the first time in months, Balinor allowed himself a wry smile and answered somewhat cryptically “Kilgarrah and I have known each other for a long time. You could say that we are… very close.” Emrys’ brows furrowed, trying in vain to work out Balinor’s relationship to the dragon. Coming up with nothing the cloaked man smiled warily at Balinor and nodded before gesturing for them to walk together to the Elder’s tent. Eager to keep up with this enigmatic and surprisingly long legged boy, Balinor took long and fast strides, navigating around a large root with a certain grace that Emrys obviously lacked as he misjudged his step and fell flat on his face. Before Balinor could ask him if he was all right, the older man heard a groan from the floor and the heap of legs and cloak muttered something along the lines of ‘not again!’ Bending down with a chuckle Balinor helped the young man to his feet and dusted him off. Emrys just stood there, red in the face, covered in dust, being brushed down like a child. Still bent over, Balinor asked “So trip over that root a lot then?”   
He straightened up just in time to see the boy’s face burn even brighter as he answered, his voice a mix of humour and exasperation “Yep. Every time. I should really put a sign up or something…” He caught Balinor’s eye and both men burst into a fit of laughter. Clapping Emrys on the back and trying to ignore the unexplainable tingling sensation he felt when his hand made contact, Balinor said “Your not what I expected, Emrys. I grew up on the prophecies of you and your adventures in Albion, I always expected an old man, with a long white beard and a staff… not…” The Dragonlord trailed off, unsure of how to phrase the rest of his sentence without causing offence.  
“Not a gawky nineteen year old with big ears and no sense of balance?” finished Emrys.  
“Well yes!” Balinor winked at Emrys, only for them both to start chuckling again.  
“Yes, I don’t really live up to the legends in looks. People forget that everyone is young and awkward at some point so when they meet me, normally they’re disappointed or just don’t believe it, which is very handy in a fight,” Aha, so I was right about him being cunning, Balinor thought. “Plus I’m still learning. I mean, I have got a lot of raw power and everything, but that can only do so much, I’ve still got to learn the spells.”  
Balinor nodded in agreement, growing to like this boy more and more. He had a good sense of humour and wasted no time making jokes at his own expense, but moreover he was cunning and clever; he had enough wisdom to know that brute force can only get you so far. Ducking his head, Balinor and Emrys entered the tent, the former holding the flap open for the latter who smiled in thanks. Intent on finishing this conversation Emrys quickly added “Sadly, I only have the one book that Gaius managed to hide and unfortunately, Camelot isn’t the easiest or safest place to smuggle magical artifacts.”  
Doing a double take Balinor said “Wait, what? Camelot? Is that where you live?”  
Emrys frowned, had the druids told Balinor nothing? “Yes, I live with Gaius, the court physician. I thought you would’ve known that…” He looked towards Iseldir for an explanation but the druid leader remained impassive. Balinor it seemed was still trying to wrap his head around the fact that the worlds most powerful warlock –even if he was still a boy- would live in Camelot. Unable to come up with a suitable answer he asked “But why? Why would you live there, the centre of the Purge and the home of the Pendragons.” Out of habit he said the last part in a disgusted tone; he didn’t notice Emrys bristle at the last part he was so wrapped up in his bitterness.   
“I stay in Camelot because it has become my home and I have many friends who have become my family.” Balinor looked back up at Emrys, who had begun to talk in an icy tone with hard eyes. “I stay because of Gaius, who can teach me about my magic and help me through my trails. I stay to be close to Kilgarrah because as much as I hate that bloody dragon at times he is kin, of sorts, he can offer me advice and assistance others cannot, his knowledge seems to know no bounds and more importantly, I care for him. I could not leave him all alone again, the last of his kind, imprisoned like a common mutt in some cave. But the most important reason I stay is because of the King. And no, before you jump up and look shocked and accuse me of betraying our kind, not Uther.   
The King. My King. The Once and Future King, Athur Pendragon. And before you ask, he is the Once and Future King. I have often been told he is the King by seers, druids, even Iseldir here. In fact, the first person to tell me was Kilgarrah, on our first meeting he informed me it was my destiny to protect him, and let me tell you, it’s not something he’s letting me forget. Moreover, I see it in him everyday. I glimpsed it in him the second time we met. Each day he grows more into the King he was destined to be. I see his kindness, loyalty, his willingness to sacrifice himself for his people. He is just and has the potential to rise above all those before him, and all those which come after. We will stand together at the birth of Albion and into the Golden Age but until then, I am more than happy to wait in the background and protect him and the rest of my family and my home. Let me make this very clear; I shall not let any harm come to Arthur, nor Camelot fall as long as there is breath in my body and magic in my veins. Many have tried, all have failed. Believe what you may but if you so much as try and hurt one hair on his head then I will find you and I shall kill you, in the most painful way I can think of. Do you understand?” During his speech Emrys’ voice had grown louder and harsher, each word carefully chosen and dripping with power- quite a change from the giggling boy he had first met. He sounded like he would die for these people, Arthur Pendragon and like he would kill without remorse for them, and he already had. And Balinor believed every word he said.   
Shaking slightly (partly shocked from the sudden change in Emrys’ demeanor, partly from the revelation that Arthur Pendragon is The Once and Future King, partly from just receiving a clear threat from Emrys about the consequences of any revenge plots) Balinor sank into a chair, trying to process this information. It seemed ridiculous, impossible even, that destiny should chose Uther’s son carry out the duty of the King. But the world works in mysterious ways and Kilgarrah was hardly ever wrong so maybe… Arthur was the King? It was true, Balinor had never met the man and it was unfair to judge him on his fathers actions he supposed, although the Dragonlord certainly did harbour any goodwill to Uther- momentarily his thoughts returned to his family that never was and the eerie resemblance of Emrys and his eldest- but could the same be said for his son? The boy was innocent in the matter, although it seemed he lacked the brains to question his father’s teachings. Reaching a decision Balinor took his head from his hands and looked back up to Emrys, who had been waiting for a reply patiently. Slowly, the Dragonlord nodded his head.   
“I believe you, if you and Kilgarrah both say he is the King… then he is the King, no matter how laughable it is. I trust in both your judgements. You have my word that I shall not do anything to try and harm the King, or your home; and if he is indeed as great as you say, then I shall do everything in my power to assist you with your task of his protection, for I would very much like to see the land you will build together. However I do hope you understand, that I might not be the gracious person, if I ever meet Arthur for I have lost much at the hands of the Pend- at the hands of Uther, and while I do not want to tar one family with the same brush, it shan’t be the easiest thing for me to but twenty one years of bitterness behind me.” He finished with a small smile, hoping he had said enough to please the young man.  
In the blink of an eye Emrys’ icy exterior vanished and a smile broke across his face again as relief rolled off him in waves. “Thank you Balinor, it does mean a lot to know I have your support and that you are indeed a good man. I know many have suffered at the hands of Uther and I have seen the consequences of his actions, but, if it’s not too rude to ask, what have you lost to make you loathe him so? I’ve met people who’ve lost their families to him and felt their hate but yours… I’ve never come across it before. Would you mind telling me your story?” Emrys had begun to fidget at the end of his request, feeling uneasy asking Balinor to share something so personal.   
Balinor took a moment to consider this before asking Iseldir permission to tell his story, remembering the fact that the meeting Emrys had come for still hadn’t started. “Of course Balinor, you are more than welcome to speak. Besides, given that Lord Emrys’ problem is with Kilgarrah, you are the one he should speak to, and your story will help him understand why.” Thanking him for his understanding, Balinor gestured for the younger man to sit next to him and, with a deep breath, he began his tale.  
“Tell me Emrys do you know what a Dragonlord is?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to those who left kudos and bookmarked it, it gave me a nice feeling :-) Since I am busy on Saturday, I will update this again on Friday afternoon.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: This chapter contains a few mild swears and some violent/gory descriptions but nothing too bad. Just thought I'd let you know anyway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for updating over a week after I said I would. Firat of all I had I've had a lot of problems with my computer recently and the night I was going to update this chapter I had to wipe everything off my laptop but luckily most of my work was saved elsewhere. Then once every was reinstalled and working again, I re-read what I was going to post and realized that I didn't really liek it so I've spent about a week rewriting the majority of it. It's not that different to the FF.net version bur I do think that this is better. Anyway, enough rambling, here is the chapter, hope you enjoy it!

“Tell me Emrys do you know what a Dragonlord is?” Emrys shook his head. “Well, a Dragonlord is kin with the Dragons, we are a breed as ancient as the Dragons themselves, as it was the First Dragonlord who hatched the First Dragon, who is Kilgarrah’s forebear. Sharing blood and souls allows us to use a mental connection similar to the Druids to call to the Dragons; when a Dragonlord called the Dragon must come. Dragons must always obey their Dragonlords, it has always been that way and it will always be that way, which will be ultimately be our downfall.” Balinor paused, thinking about how to best explain his wretched situation before continuing. “I am a Dragonlord, if you hadn’t already realised but more specifically, I am the last Dragonlord. I have no son or heir to continue my line so when I die, my kind will become gone from this earth and the Dragons, or Dragon, will die as well. You see, a Dragon may only hatch when it is called from its egg by a Dragonlord and while there are a few eggs that remain, safe, hidden from all knowledge except Kilgarrah’s, with no Dragonlords to call them forth… They shall never hatch and the world will shudder for its great loss.” He shook his head at the thought of that sorry day, of the complete solitude Kilgarrah would feel at his passing. How had it come to this?  
“When he started the Purge, Uther declared on all of the Old Religion including Dragonkind. Not all of us had magic, I myself am virtually incapable and only the first born son of a lord could inherit the gift but Uther has never been one to judge the individual.” Emrys huffed a small bitter laugh at this harsh truth and was joined by Balinor who shook his head again. “My ancestor was the First Lord, ever since him my family, the house of Ambrosias has ruled over the Dragonlords. We do not presume to rule the Dragons although it is within our power it would be the betrayal of kin steal their free will. When the Purge began, I was a young man only a few years older than you are now and I was exploring the wild lands when my family called me back to them. There were various battles and raids and the like, as you would expect from a war, for that was what it is. Dragonkind are notoriously fierce for protecting their family and we do not go to war lightly, so when we do, you can expect bloodshed. There is nothing Dragonkind will not do for its kin.  
There were great losses sustained on both sides, I myself all my family. My Father, Mother and all my brothers and sisters had been killed during the first year of the Purge, which put me in charge of the Dragonlords, despite my young age, and I inherited his Dragonlord abilities. Kilgarrah and I lead many assaults on the forces of Camelot and helped many innocents evade capture and find shelter from Uther.  
We would attack Camelot’s soldiers, they would raid our camps, and then there would be a large battle where many died. This went on for a year before Uther sent a druid to us, with a message that he wanted to meet to negotiate a truce.” Balinor stopped again, his throat closing up and mouth drying out at the prospect of telling Emrys what happened next. He cleared his throat before continuing in a rough voice.  
“I… I was still young at this point, please understand that. I was young and naive and I just wanted it to be over so I could grieve for my family. I had never been in a war before, let alone led one and I had never come across one like Uther Pendragon. We debated for a week before decided that we half of us would enter the citadel without the Dragons and the other half would wait in the Darkling Woods with instructions to run it if was a trap. We entered into negotiations with Uther and his advisers, of all of them Gaius was the one I liked best. I remember him a bit from when I went to Camelot when I was just a boy, he was nice then too. I’ll spare you the details, I’m sure you can imagine it. Insults were thrown, distrustful glances were shared and it was hard but we eventually came to an agreement. The main points were that Uther would call off the Purge and instead use a new, fairer set of laws governing the use of magic and I would remain in Camelot to enforce those laws and keep an eye on the more powerful sorcerers. It wasn’t faultless, it was a treaty of compromises but it was far better than the alternative.  
We signed the treaty, there we witnesses, he gave me is word as King that it would be so.  
And like a fool I believed him.  
I sent a few my advisors to the Darkling Woods to bring to the city for a celebration and we called the Dragons to Camelot, as a sign on trust, that the war was over and Uther and Belæwend had lied to us.  
Belæwend is The Betrayer, I do not speak his name. He was one of our own, one of my most trusted advisers that had turned against us. He told Uther all our secrets, our plans for survival and how to capture the Dragons. Do you know what Uther promised Belæwend?”  
Emrys shook his head with wide eyes.  
“Uther told him that he and his children would be spared, that he would let them leave and live in peace if he would betray us. Like I said, there is nothing Dragonkind wouldn’t do to protect their family.  
The night after we signed the treaty, we were pulled from our beds, gagged and bound and led to the plains outside the city walls where our Dragons were trapped, held down by enchanted chains. Belæwend had told Uther to Dragons could be controlled and commanded them not to attack. They were helpless. His knights and soldiers began attacking them and had succeeded in killing a few before I worked my gag free. I called out in Dragon tongue for them to fight, fight till their last breath against the monsters and by the Gods they did. We fought and killed many but the numbers where too great and we were overwhelmed. In the end, Kilgarrah and I stood alone on that bloody plain, both shackled and beaten as the life of our kin seeped onto the saturated ground.  
I could see him from where I kneeled. He was standing on the wall looking down. He was smiling. Like he was enjoying seeing every once of magical blood pool in the dirt. I couldn’t take my eyes off him.  
Kilgarrah was screaming in my head, I was sobbing for my friends and my family. I could see Belæwend on the wall next to Uther and I thought that my heart could break into no smaller pieces.  
The only comfort was that some of us would survive, those I had sent to hide. There were still a number of eggs hidden, waiting to be hatched. Our races would continue, in secrecy and danger, but we would endure.  
But my relief was short lived. Uther gave a command and the bodies were thrown from the battlements, dangling from thick ropes like puppets. They were the people I sent to hide. Uther my men followed and cut their throats while they slept. The men, the women, the children, they all hung like hunting trophies on his walls. Above Kilgarrah and my own cries, I heard Belæwend shrieking that Uther had promised that his children would be safe that they would not be harmed. But Uther just looked at Belæwend like he was disgusted by his existence and then he ran him through with his sword. Even though he is Belæwend part of me still mourns him and blames myself for his fate, just as I mourn the others.  
Though it was by Uther’s command that they were slaughtered, the deaths of my people are on my hands. I led them to Camelot, I believed that that bastard would keep his word, I should have known better, done better and it is my fault that they are dead and Kilgarrah is imprisoned and I shall never forget that.”  
Balinor broke off unable to continue. Emrys would hate him now, and rightly so. He had failed in his duty to protect his people. He felt Emrys pull him to his feet and he tensed, preparing for… well, some kind of attack. What he didn’t expect was for Emrys to pull him into a bone crushing hug. Held firm in Emrys’ tight embrace Balinor began to sob brokenly, his muffled cries filling the tent as, for the first time in years, he allowed his guilt and his grief to consume him.  
When Emrys pulled back, his hands remained on Balinor’s arm gripping them tightly and spoke in a stern, level voice as he stared Balinor straight in the eyes, daring the Dragonlord to argue with his words.  
“It was not your fault Balinor and it breaks my heart that you still carry all that remorse on your back, after all this time. You did nothing wrong, what you did was wise, compassionate and noble.”  
Balinor shook his head and scoffed but Emrys just looked sad and continued. “No Balinor, it was. It was a good plan, you thought ahead and tried to ensure not only the safety of your people but of all the magical people threatened by Uther by going to Camelot. You put aside your justified desire for revenge on the man who killed your family to make peace with Uther to prevent further losses, on both sides. The truce you made was fair and would have taken the first steps towards returning Camelot to the land it will be again. It was not your fault that the Purge began, it is not your fault that Belæwend chose his children over the rest of you, it’s not your fault that Uther is a lying, manipulative bastard that has less honour, compassion and foresight than a rock and I’ll be dammed if I let you don’t start believing that! None of this was your fault, Balinor, the blame lies, once again with Uther and the Gods shall punish him for eternity for his sins. That I believe with all my heart. But you have to let this go Balinor. You are a good man, I have seen that and I cannot let another good man be destroyed grief. Not again.”  
Emrys’ hands were still gripping onto Balinor’s forearms and it was almost painful how tight it was. Their eyes had stayed locked on each other and Balinor found himself calming under their firm, passionate gaze. There were so kind, so sad, so much like his son’s eyes would have been…  
When the tears had stopped and breath came easily to him once more the Dragonlord nodded to Emrys and sat back down in his chair and said, his gruff voice shaking “Th-thank you, Emrys. For understanding. I have struggled with what happened that day for many years and it will take time, but I think that you are right; it, it wasn’t my fault. I need to let go.”  
Emrys, who too had sat down, nodded and said “Good. There is no point dealing in what ifs and maybes, if I did I might have gone mad by now.” Emrys smiled tightly, looking older than Balinor for a moment before his eyes regained that mischievous glint as he suddenly beamed. “Besides, what would Kilgarrah say if he could see you now, wallowing in self-pity rather than being cryptic and spouting nonsense about destiny?”  
Balinor let out a weak chuckle at the joke and Emrys’ award winning smile. “Yes, I suppose he would give me a real telling off. But is he really that cryptic? When I was a boy he did always have a riddles for me but surely it can’t be that bad?”  
Emrys let out a bark of laughter before replying “Not that bad? Almost everytime we speak he gives me a headache! I think twenty years in solitude has really made him loose all sense of what’s normal conversation.” He and Balinor smiled at each other before he continued in a more serious voice “Do you, I mean, I understand if you don’t want to, but, could you carry on with your story? I would very much like to know what happened next.”  
“Honestly Emrys, I would be honoured to tell you my story.  
Kilgarrah and I were alone on the bleeding ground and Uther watched from above on the battlements. Our murdered kin were strewn around us and the bodies of children dangled on the city walls as trophies for all to see.  
We weeped for them, Emrys and, oh, how we raged for them.  
We bit and scratched and struck anything that can close enough, despite both being bound, to try and make them feels a fraction of the pain we felt. I heard Kilgarrah speak in my mind, he told me that we could not let our family be further defiled and that we must burn them, as was tradition for Dragonkind, you see. I summoned what little magic I possessed and set as many as I could aflame, whispering blessings between my sobs. Kilgarrah breathed fire on those strung up on the walls and we spoke a prayer for them, in the Dragon tongue. Uther, he laughed, he thought that we were aiming for him but were so stupid that we couldn’t even do that. The thought that we were trying to honour our kin and regain their dignity never crossed his mind. We began fighting again, why I do not know, we both knew it would be impossible to escape. Just when I think it could get any worse, Uther disappeared; I hoped that he was going to join us on the plain and we could end it all there and then. But he returned to the battlements, carrying a baby.  
It was a little boy. It was the Prince, I know it was. His tufts of hair were as golden as the sun and he waved his pudgy little arms about. I still struggle that that little boy was the cause of this war, all those deaths, all the blood seeping into the ground; it just doesn’t quite fit.  
Uther held him high in his arms, so that he could see the devastation he had caused as he lectured his infant son on the evils and brutishness of magic. The Prince was too small to understand the words, all he could see was death and all he could smell was charred flesh and all he could hear was Kilgarrah’s anguish roar but Uther persisted, as was his way. The baby began crying and Uther held him closer but instead of comforting him, he just whispered more lies into the boy’s ears. I thought it were impossible for my hatred of Uther to grow but to bring a baby, your own son to witness the horrors that you had brought about by your own hand is inconceivable to me. Uther Pendragon does not deserve a son.  
I thought, for one terrible moment, that Kilgarrahs would try and roast him, babe and all. As much as Uther deserves death, the Prince was innocent, he could still be saved. I was about to stop Kilgarrah when he looked at the boy, and the boy looked back. Uther was blind to this, too caught up in his mad rambling but I saw.  
They both went completely still, the boy stopped wailing and Kilgarrah stopped screaming and they just looked. It makes sense now of course, Kilgarrah had a vision of the Prince who would become a King who could right the wrongs of his father and bring justice to the whole of Albion. Of course, I had no idea at the time but then I heard Kilgarrah speak in my head. He told me to trust him and stop fighting, to let myself be captured and imprisoned. He said that would have a chance to escape that way, so I trusted him and I was led away to the dungeons. But not once did Kilgarrah’s stare move from the Prince.  
I was only in the dungeon for a few days before Gaius helped me escape, but before I left the city I went to find Kilgarrah and free him. I found him in a large cavern under the city, with a long chain attached to his leg. I took out my sword to break his chains but he just shook his head and told me to put it away. He said that I couldn’t free him, not today, not for a long time. I asked him why but he wouldn’t tell me. He insisted that I leave Camelot immediately without him, and not look back. I should ride for my life he said, speed is of the essence, it wouldn’t take them long to realize I was gone. I asked when I could come back for him and smiled at me, so sadly as if he knew something so very good but couldn’t tell anyone else. I knew that secret was why he wouldn’t come with me but I also knew he would never willingly tell me, and I would never force it out of him, so a secret it remained. He said that I’d know when that day came and if I didn’t then I was an idiot.” Balinor let out a little laugh, remembering his old friends condescending words.  
“Kilgarrah apologised that we had to part and mourn in solitude and he made me swear that I’d stay out of trouble and then he told me to run.  
And I did, I stole a horse and rode north, for the border with Essitir. I made into Cenred’s kingdom in two days, thanks to Gaius, half of Camelot’s army was heading south and by the time they realised their mistake it was too late. I took refuge in a small village near the border Gaius had told me about. He told me of a woman he knew who would look after me. It was only meant to be a temporary stop, it was too dangerous to stay so close to the border but I thought, I hoped I might be safe outside of Camelot. Uther and Cenred were at war and Essetir has never outlawed magic so I thought maybe there I could be safe until Kilgarrah called me. I never dreamed Uther would persue me or I never would’ve stayed there so long.  
I met a woman you see, in this village. A good woman. It was the one who took me, she was my age and so kind. I was so angry when I first met her. I wanted Uther’s blood for his crimes, I wanted to hunt him down and make him hurt the same way he had hurt me. I told her this, the first night we met. But she ignored it, she just shook her head in unhappiness and offered to clean my wounds. And she did, she cleaned my cuts and tended to the bruises I had been gifted by Uther’s men. She made me better in every single way. She took my anger and sorrow from me and made me happy again. She was so beautiful, inside and out. She was kind, pretty, prettier than any woman I’d ever met and she had a wicked sense of humour! She had wits sharp enough to rival a dragon. She worked hard too, living on her own at such a young age. Her parents had died and it seemed her only option was marriage but she said no and made her own way. She had a couple of sheep and her own small field of crops and she was so proud of it. I could see it in her eyes as she worked, everything she had was hers completely, and I was no exception.  
I loved her completely and I still do. She is my first thought when I wake and my last when I go to sleep. I was only with her for four months before Uther’s men came but they were the finest months of my like, I got to spend every waking moment with her. I would’ve stayed with her forever; we were planning on getting married. Maybe it was too soon but we didn’t care. We were utterly in love. I still thought of my family and those I had lost, but the she could lessen the pain simply with her smile.  
When I heard that Uther’s knights were heading towards the border, I knew I had to leave. I didn’t want to but I wanted, I needed above all else for her to be safe. I couldn’t even imagine what would happen if she were to be hurt because of me. She said she would come with me but I wouldn’t let her. A life on the run was no life for her. If I let her go then she could be happy, meet someone else, have children. Have all the things I couldn’t give her. The day I left she clung to me crying, begging me not to go. I told I that I didn’t care about her, I never loved her, that I was just using her, anything to try and make her hate me enough to stay in the village, stay safe and away from me. She didn’t believe me though, she always was clever, she saw straight through my lies and she knew why I left. It broke my heart to walk away and to have to break hers too. Leaving her hurt more than loosing my kin, my family.  
I still dream about her, about the life we could’ve had, our house, our children that will never be.  
I was forced to run again, hiding in caves and in the forests, never staying too long until five years ago, when I ran into Iseldir and his band of druids in the woods and he offered me sanctuary. It had never occurred to me to seek out the Druids, I hadn’t wanted to give Uther more of a reason to hunt them. Since then very little has happened, we’ve moved around a lot but it’s been… peaceful. It was very good of Iseldir to take me in. I am very grateful.” He turned and smiled at the still present druid leader who was watching the exchange with an interested expression. He gaze returned to Emrys who looked sad and far too old, obviously he had heard too many stories like this.  
“So that is my story Emrys and that is what I have lost to Uther Pendragon. I have lost my family, the rest of my kind, all of the dragons- because even Kilgarrah is lost to me. I have lost my freedom, the woman I love and my children, who will never be.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the final chapter, since I decided to lump together the last two chapters as one big one, sorry if that puts anyone off! Hopefully in this chapter the paragraphs should be smaller, sorry about that, I forgot how big the font is on here. Right, well thanks for reading, I hope you enjoy the final chapter of Chance!

The last Dragonlord sank back into his chair dejectedly, but his eyes were still searching Emrys for something, some unknown tiny but vastly important detail which he still couldn’t find. The younger man just looked down at his hands for a few minutes before looking up, and with a breaking voice and watery eyes said “My dear Balinor, I cannot understand your pain fully, for I have not experienced anything that could compare; I have not loved; I have my family; I know there are more like me. You have been so strong and so brave and I hope that one day, I will be able to be as strong and as brave as you.  
It pains me that I have saved the life of Uther Pendragon before and that I probably will again, if our dream of Albion is to be realised. He has caused so much pain and suffered so little himself. I do wish that he witnesses his son’s actions from Avalon. What a delightful thought that is, Uther watching Arthur embrace magic with open arms.”  
Both Emrys and Balinor started laughing at the image. It was weak and slightly bitter laughter, but it was laughter none the less. “Mm, yes. It does have a certain poetic justice doesn’t it? The man who sets out to eradicate magic from the earth, only to have it returned by his only son.” Chuckled Balinor. Remembering something he asked “Isn’t there a reason you’re here Emrys? What was your problem again?”  
Sobering up the younger man replied “Oh yes, I almost forgot. What a coincidence that you, the last Dragonlord, are present in the very camp I visit to seek advice about the last dragon. Well Balinor, I think the day you have been waiting for has finally come. Kilgarrah has been requesting his freedom.”  
Sitting bolt upright an excited grin spread across the Dragonlords face, the same smile as Emrys. “Has he really? I think perhaps it’s time that I paid my old friend a visit, don’t you?”  
It felt so good to joke again, Balinor thought. The druids were very nice but sometimes they were just too serious, unlike Emrys, who seemed to always be up for a giggle.  
Emrys replied, in the same teasing tone “I think it’s well overdue actually. This isn’t the first time he’s asked but… recent circumstances have meant that we’re barely on speaking terms but he is still my friend. I could arrange a meeting for the two of you if you came back to Camelot with me, we can’t have Kilgarrah thinking you’re an idiot now can we?”  
And with that their meeting ended. The pair thank a slightly mystified Iseldir, who had remained silent and contemplative throughout, for the use of the tent and then headed outside into the dying sunlight laughing together.  
\---------- They sat together during the meal and were only separated when Emrys went to dance with the children later that evening (although later he managed to pull Balinor up to dance with all of the other adults arguing that dancing improved your coordination so if Balinor didn’t want to fall over a rock in front of Kilgarrah and look like an idiot, he should get some practise in. Balinor had laughed but ultimately got up and joined the throng).  
The druids privately wondered what had made their Dragonlord so happy. This morning had been like any other morning –apart from the arrival of Emrys of course- Balinor left his tent, ate alone and in silence, watched the children with sorrowful eyes, barely spoke and took solitary walks through the woods. It upset the druids to see him so unhappy and full of pain. They had tried to help him but all their attempts had proved to be futile. He had left for the Elder’s tent with Emrys and Iseldir looking almost as solemn as always, if a little shocked, and he had returned laughing, making jokes with Emrys, openly talking about the Great Dragon and telling their King stories about his youth with laughter in his voice and joy in his eyes. He was almost unrecognizable, looking twenty years younger and unburdened for once.  
And now he was dancing!  
In the five years he had lived with them, the druids had never once seen Balinor dance. He had always been polite at such gatherings but, other than the occasional smile and compliment to the children about their flower garlands he had remained on the sidelines and here he was dancing, joking, joining in the animal noises when the sung the Song of the Woodland Creatures! They could only assume that it was all down to their Emrys.  
Once again he had given them a reason to thank him- he had made their Dragonlord happy again.

\----------

It was just after dawn when Balinor stood outside the luxurious tent Emrys had given for the night, calling for him. Wearing his best travelling clothes (brown trousers, a long brown coat and a dark green tunic) Balinor was eager to get back to Camelot and see Kilgarrah, maybe Gaius too; he did owe the man a lot. Distracted by a rustling from behind the tent Balinor tensed, unsheathing his sword. He lowered it when he saw Emrys come crashing out from behind the tent, dirt on his pale cheeks, a twig lodged behind his ear and his raven hair sticking up at funny angles.  
Seeing Balinor and his confused expression Emrys blushed before blurting out “I slept outside. I snuck out of my tent when everyone had gone to sleep. It’s not that I don’t like my tent, it’s a very nice tent, in fact it’s too nice, I do keep telling them that I’m not actually a King or anything, I’m don’t have so much as a drop of noble blood but they never listen, I’m not used to all this lavishness, I’d much prefer a normal tent, in fact I prefer to sleep outside but they’d never let me, I’ve tried before and they found me the next mor-” He stopped abruptly and blushed a deeper shade of red to match his neckerchief as he saw Balinor was only just managing to hold back laughter at him rambling. “I only slept outside because I couldn’t sleep in the tent and sleeping outside helps soothe me. It makes me feel…connected with everything, with myself.”  
Balinor made a noise of agreement; having spent many nights under the stars he knew the calming effect it could have.  
“Anyway,” Emrys continued, determined not to get sidetracked again “I couldn’t sleep because I had this feeling that I’ve missed something very important. Nothing bad though, I don’t feel like I’ve been followed or that some ones going to attack; it’s a good feeling but it’s something really important.” Balinor grunted in agreement again. He too had felt a similar thing since he met Emrys and had given up trying to work out what it was.  
“So, are you ready to go?” asked Balinor, slightly impatiently.  
“Hm?” Emrys had only been half listening, he was busy dusting himself off and pulling twigs out of his hair. “Oh! Camelot! Am I ready to go to Camelot? Oh erm, I meant to say last night but I forgot, I’m not going to Camelot just yet. Sorry. I’ve got the week off so I’m going back to my village to visit my mother. I knew I was going to pass by the camp so I though I’d stop here for the night. Asking for advice was an afterthought to be honest. Glad I did though, eh?” Emrys spoke in a light jovial tone, slightly distracted with taking off his right boot and shaking a big green caterpillar out of it.  
Frowning slightly, wondering how it got in there, Emrys picked it up gently and put it on a nearby leaf which it began to devour quickly. “You are a very hungry caterpillar, aren’t you?” he murmured softly, quickly placing a protective enchantment on it. It seemed like a nice caterpillar and he didn’t want it to be eaten before it turned into a beautiful butterfly.  
Balinor watched this display of innocence from Emrys with a light heart, everything else forgotten as he watched the duplicate of the son he dreamed of gently pick up a caterpillar and lift it to safety before speaking to it in such a childlike voice it made Balinor’s heart bleed. It was voice of some one who’d lost their innocence far too young, some one who’d never really had the chance to be care free and childlike. It must have been awful for him growing up. He would’ve had to hide his gifts from everyone on pain of death, no life for a child. He cursed Uther under his breath for taking another his new friend’s innocence. He managed to regain his composure before Emrys turned to face him, looking apologetic. Seeing the young man open his mouth, probably to apologise again Balinor cut him off “It’s fine, I shouldn’t have assumed we were leaving straight away. When will you pass through here again then?”  
Balinor smiled, just to reassure Emrys that everything was all right. He saw an idea flash across Emrys’ face as he began to speak slowly “You could… you could come with me, to my village I mean and then to Camelot. It’s just me and my mother, I don’t have a father. I think you’d get along well, she’s a bit like me. It was just a thought really, it doesn’t matter if you don’t want to I just though you might, it might be easier than waiting around here for a few days…” Emrys trailed off having finally finished his insane mix of babbling and drawing out his words nervously.  
It was obviously a big deal to ask Balinor back to his home, which made the Dragonlord swell with happiness and pride. Had he really made that much of a good impression on the young man? He thought it over for a few seconds before answering “Yes, I’d like that very much Emrys. I would be honoured to come with you to your home and meet your mother.”  
Emrys let out a sigh of relief and beamed at Balinor, who returned the smile, and walked over to where a slender black horse lay. “Afa,” Emrys called gently as the mare’s ear pricked forward and she blinked her eyes open. Afa stood proud as nuzzled Emrys’ shoulder affectionately.  
“Afa, this is my friend Balinor, Balinor this is my trusty and noble mare, Afa.” He giggled as the horse nibbled his ear. “Knock it off Afa, I’ll get you some breakfast in a minute.”  
He nudged her towards Balinor who walked forward and put his hand out. After a cautionary sniff, Afa began to push her nose into Balinor’s coat, looking for apples.  
The Dragonlord laughted softly as he stroked her velvet nose, whispering compliments in her ears, to which she snickered softly. Looking up he saw Emrys’ amused face and he smiled saying “What can I say, I just have a way with all the beasts.”  
After a simple breakfast around a quiet campfire. They went to fetch Balinor’s horse Brego, before telling the druids of their plans. After bidding them goodbye- which them being overwhelmed with offers of food from all the older women who seemed rather smitten with sweet young lad but after being given four loaves of bread, two legs of rabbit, an array of nuts and berries, four apples and a roast chicken Balinor said enough was enough- they packed their saddlebags and set off at a leisurely pace.  
\---------- “So Emrys, tell me about your village. Is it nice?”  
They had been riding in comfortable silence for most of the journey and had stopped by a stream to rest the horses when curiosity got the better of Balinor.  
Emrys looked over his shoulder at Balinor before patting Afa’s shoulder once more before settling himself on a large boulder, wringing his hands between knees. “Oh it’s nothing special really.” He half laughed, looking at bit nervous.  
“Just your normal outlying village. Few fields, couple of cows. Got the weirdest mix of laws though, since no one can decide whether we belong to Camelot or Essitir, it’s changed so much. Magic’s never been outlawed in Essitir but enough people in the village follow Uther’s laws to make it very dangerous.”  
“I’m sorry.” Frowned Balinor, not sure of what else to say.  
Emrys just half laughed again and shook his head. “Don’t be. It’s not your fault. It wasn’t as bad as all that anyway. I mean, for the most part life was pretty boring. Mother always insisted I was careful with my gift and I was… generally. But it’s hard to control something that’s just part of you! I didn’t know any spells, my magic it just, it just sort of did its own thing. When I was no more than this high,” Emrys gestured with one hand to about waist height “I would make things grow and change colour and when I was sad I would make it rain. How could I control that?”  
Balinor’s eyes widened at the extent of Emrys’s power; being able to control the weather was a feat that many high priests and priestesses couldn’t achieve, and yet here was a young man claiming to control the weather with nothing but his emotions when he was only a boy.  
“I didn’t have many friends because of it. Well, for ages I didn’t have any friends. I had one though, when I was about thirteen summers old,” Emrys continued, his tone growing softer and the edges of his lips curled upwards at the thought of his friend. “His name was Will, he was a bit of a loner too.  
He didn’t have a father too, only his had died in battle when we were young, rather than just, well, not having a father. He never picked on me like some of the other kids, even after his father died. He was brash and said what he thought but he was kind and brave.  
We had played knights together when we were very little, but as my magic grew it wasn’t safe for me to around other people so much without risking revealing it so we grew apart. But when we were thirteen, I had stormed into the woods in a foul mood-Mother and I had argued, for the life of me I can’t remember what but it seemed so important at the time. I was so angry I felled about half a mile of forest by accident.  
I didn’t know that Will had followed me.”  
Balinor laughed lightly, imaging an awkward thirteen year old version of Emrys trying to stutter an explanation of what had happened.  
“He thought it was brilliant, of course. He promised not to tell anyone as long as I showed what else I could do.” Grinning, he closed his eyes, remembering the feeling of warmth when Will had promised not to tell and that their secret was safe ‘because friends don’t break their promises.’  
“We did manage to keep a secret for a few years before Mother found out. Of course, she went crazy when she realized Will knew. She looked me in the house and wouldn’t let Will or anyone see me for a whole week. She only let me out because I was going stir crazy and kept levitating things by accident.  
Mother and Will, they were my family. No one else ever really…well. Even if it weren’t for the magic I don’t think I ever would have fitted in there, it was just so dammed quiet. I always dreamed of adventure and magic and dragons, and I was never going to get that in Ealdor, so I- Balinor, are you all right?”  
The Dragonlord and flinched and jumped up at the mention of the village’s name, unsure if it was luck or misfortune that he was now headed the one place he had dreamed of for twenty years. She wouldn’t still be there, would she? She would have married someone else and moved away from that tired little village, surely. But if she hadn’t then surely…  
“Emrys, do you, is there a woman, in the village, who’s called Hunith?” He whispered hoarsely. The boy stared at him for a long moment before nodding and speaking slowly.  
“Yes, Hunith is my mother. Why do you ask?”  
The breath caught in Balinor’s throat as everything began to fall into place. He closed his eyes as flashes from the past few days flew through his mind.  
‘he even had Balinor’s lopsided smile’  
‘gawky nineteen year old’  
‘a small village near the border’  
‘Hunith is my mother’  
‘I don’t have a father’  
‘I had this feeling that I’ve missed something very important’

It all fitted. All of it.  
A name. That was what he needed, to be sure of it, he just needed the boy’s name. Keeping his eyes tightly shut (he didn’t want to look until he knew, he couldn’t bear the disappointment if the boy wasn’t… if he wasn’t.) Balinor murmured his question. “What’s your name boy, the name my Hunith gave you? Please, I need to know, what’s your real name Emrys?”  
After lifetimes of silence Balinor felt reassuring hands on his shoulders and heard a gentle, confused voice speak.  
“Merlin. My name is Merlin.”  
Merlin.  
He saw the face from his dreams, the face of Emrys, the face of his son.  
In his mind he could see his compassion, wisdom, protectiveness, his voice, his eyes, his ears, his magic. He could see it all now and it fitted.  
For once it all fitted and made perfect sense.  
Slowly he prised his eyes open and drank in the man standing before him. He was tall and gangly and just a bit too thin. His clothes were old and worn around the edges, and for some bizarre reason he wore a red neckerchief, Camelot Red. He had scruffy raven black that partially covered a pair of ridiculously large ears. Sharp cheekbones jutted out from his pale skin, giving a distinctive look. Under furrowed brows were sharp ice blue eyes, which he now realised where uncannily like Hunith’s, that were filled with concern. A mouth, which was almost exactly the same as his own, was moving but the words of worry were lost on the Dragonlord, they washed over him like the tide because nothing else could possibly matter because he knew! He had never seen something so perfect in his life.  
And it was his, it was his son.  
One of Balinor’s calloused hand caressed Merlin’s cheek, the other gripping his forearm as if Merlin was about to disappear back into a dream.  
“Merlin. My son, Merlin.” He breathed reverently, his eyes filling with tears.  
“What? Balinor what are you talking about?” asked a confused Merlin, his voice rising in distress.  
Both hands now grasped his son’s shoulders tightly, hoping to provide some kind of anchor for him. His voice was urgent, he spoke as if Merlin was about to be ripped from him at any moment.  
“You remember I told you of a village I went to, when I first escaped, the one on the border? Remember the woman I spoke? The village was Ealdor, that was where I ran. Your mother, Hunith, she was the woman, the one I love. I never knew, I never thought, never imagined- but oh! Merlin, I am your father, I’m sorry I left, I didn’t know, please believe me I never would’ve left if I’d known, please!”  
Balinor was talking frantically, stumbling over his words all the while his eyes never wandering from the face before him. Realization was dawning on Merlin, his brain was processing this information agonizingly slowly, everything slotting into place for him too.  
“I can’t believe, I have a son!” Balinor laughed loudly and threw his head back as he shouted to the forest “Oh praise the merciful gods I have a son!”  
“And I have… I have a father.” Merlin’s voice was quiet and raw as met his father’s loving brown eyes, which were also overflowing with tears.  
“I’m sorry, my son, that I have never known you. I do not know what it is to have a son.” Balinor spoke sombrely, his voice heavily laden with emotion.  
Merlin just smiled sadly and said “Nor I a father.”  
Balinor made a small jerking movement towards Merlin, unsure whether it would be right when he once again had the wind knocked out of him by his son’s embrace. Balinor froze for a moment before wrapping his arms around his son as tightly as he could, his tears falling freely down his face (not that he minded, he could feel a growing damp patch on his own shoulder from Merlin).  
“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” Balinor repeatedly muttered into the fabric of Merlin’s coat.  
When they finally pulled away, both were beaming.  
“Don’t be sorry,” Merlin said “It’s not your fault… Father. I am just glad that Chance has allowed us to meet while there is still breath in our bodies.” His smile grew wider and happier, if possible, as he mounted his horse.  
“Come on,” he continued “We have much to talk about, you and I, and Mother, I don’t want to waste anymore time than I have to.”  
Balinor froze. The though of seeing Hunith after all these years… it thrilled and terrified him. Shaking his head, he said “I don’t know if I can face her, son, it has been too long…”  
Merlin raised an eyebrow and his next words were dripping with sarcasm. “And what would I say to her, hm? Oh hello Mother, you’ll never guess who I’ve just met? Balinor! Remember him? Last Dragonlord, love of your life, father of your only child… yeah that Balinor! What are the chances, eh? Anyway, I invited him to come with me and pay you a visit but turns out he was too chicken…”  
Merlin said the last sentence tauntingly slow, a trick that after a year of goading Arthur, he had learnt was irresistible and invaluable.  
Swinging himself up onto his steed, Balinor took the bait without even realising it.  
“Well,” he began in a gruff voice, eyes sparkling with humour “when you put it like that…” He spurred his horse on, breaking into a canter. He heard Merlin’s light laughter and joined with him, a throaty chuckle erupted from deep within him as Merlin caught him up, egging his own horse on.  
It didn’t matter that magic was still outlawed; or that Arthur did not know the truth; or even that Kilgarrah still languished below Camelot. Because for the first time in such a long time, Balinor felt whole.


End file.
